SaveHouse Royale
by Rick E
Summary: Under military dictatorship, coworkers at a superstore are kidnapped and forced to fight until only one is left standing in Season 88 of the American Battle Royale program.  Reviews welcome and encouraged.
1. Intro

**(AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you've been reading my other Battle Royale fanfic The Program, fear not, I haven't forgotten about it. I will be working on both together. I'm doing this story however because it's a little bit more personal for me.)**

The United States of America, January 4, 2002.

In the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the country was in total disarray. No one believed in the government to catch those responsible for it. People were rapidly losing all form of faith in the government.

It was a cold day in Washington, D.C. The new year had just begun. Suddenly, a call from the Middle East to Washington came in, claiming a nuclear missile strike had wiped out nearly 750,000 people in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Iran. While threats to the United States immediately came in, it turned out that the U.S. was not responsible for the strike.

It was the Republic Of Greater East Asia. The missile came from the country of Japan, which was under military law. The country sent an immediate message to the Americans saying that the 9/11 attacks were unacceptable and more needed to be done. While the American government was quick to denounce the attack, the American public was far more understanding.

Exactly as planned.

The attack was done in hopes that the American people would finally be fed up with their own government and would accept the Republic as their new government. And it worked.

Millions of Americans banded together, under RGEA recommendation, and successfully overthrew the American government on June 8, 2002, welcoming the RGEA days later.

Little did they suspect that they had been tricked.

Within a month, the military dictatorship imposed on East Asia had been replicated in America. When people attempted overthrow the new government as they did with the last one, they were shot dead by cops in riot gear. In the attempted overthrow, over 2,000 people were left dead.

Within two months of the new government, East Asia's notorious "Battle Royale" program was announced as being in production. But the American version had a twist: while in Japan, the program was played out by high school students, in America, it would include high school students as well as college students and co-workers and, in a highly rated season, celebrities. The first program started on October 20, 2002, and lasted until October 22. The winner of the first ever American program, a 19-year-old college student named Nolan Scott, killed twelve of his classmates and suffered a bullet wound to the face, leaving him horribly disfigured. He committed suicide three months after winning the program.

While the BR program in Japan was only done as a military exercise, under recommendation from a Hollywood producer, it was turned into a reality television program. The producer liked the idea purely for monetary reasons, while the government thought it would scare people into compliance more efficiently. Once again, the plan was a success.

Starting in October 2002, the program ran once a month. Once becoming televised in April 2003, it became a ratings bonanza, with an average number of viewers exceeding 50 million.

July 2010 was to be the eighty-eighth televised season of The Program (ninety-fourth overall). And it would be one to remember.

…

"So," Scott Whitley said, "is that really what you want to do?"

"I mean, it's your choice," Trish McGhee added, "but I hope that you've thought it through carefully."

"Yes I have", Nick Ellis responded. "I've thought it through a lot, and I do want to put in my two weeks notice."

Nick had worked at the SaveHouse, a nationwide chain store like Walmart, in Norwell, Massachusetts, for eight months. He enjoyed it at first, but lately the customers and several of his coworkers were getting to him. Oddly enough, he wasn't annoyed at the management; he was annoyed with a lot of people on his own employment level. Whether it was Rich Saldona's habit of acting like he was in charge; Steve Umanov, Larry Tasoni and Bill Shearer always being in an eerily good mood; or Mike MacMillan's constant stupid sexual remarks, Nick had grown to really hate SaveHouse.

He didn't hate everyone, however. He did respect the authority of both Scott and Trish. He had made two legitimate friends in his time at SaveHouse, John Carven and Jackie Berkley (ironically though, Jackie hated John) and also had somewhat of a crush on Grace Bulworth, who had only been working at SaveHouse for about two months. However, he backed off when coworker Rob Lallin told him that she had a boyfriend.

Nick put in his two weeks notice at SaveHouse on June 1, and left on June 14. He was planning to go to a local community college in September and see where his life went from there.

A few weeks after leaving, he ran into Steve at a local video game store, where he asked Steve if anything interesting had happened since he had left. Steve told him that Bill for some reason stopped showing up, and Scott fired him over the phone. He also said that Rich quit because he got a better job. After chatting for a while about a movie that had just come out in theaters, Steve said he had to get going, so Nick said goodbye and went about his day.

Nick spent the next few weeks of his summer at home playing video games, much to his mom's annoyance, who constantly told him to get outdoors. He did every once in a while.

On July 22, at SaveHouse, several meetings were scheduled for the workers. A man from corporate was coming to inspect the store and wanted everyone in the store to hear what he had to say. So the workers were broken up into three groups and each group was going to listen to what the man from corporate had to say. After the first two meetings went down, the third was called. Among those called were Scott, Trish, Steve, John, Jackie, Grace, Rob, Mike, and Larry. In total, thirty-eight people were at the meeting.

"Okay," the man from corporate said, "I'm going to go outside and get some packets for each of you, and I want you all to bring them home and read them. I'll be right back."

After that he walked out of the room. The people inside starting talking to each other, whether it was related to what the man from corporate was saying or not.

"Wow," John said to Rob, "this guy's boring as fuck isn't he?"

"Yeah," Rob replied. "I hope he makes a point soon..."

John looked to his right where Grace was sitting. "So whataya think Grace? This guy full of shit?"

Grace looked up, almost looking like she was jolted from her sleep. "What?'

John was confused. "You okay? Get too drunk last night or something?"

"I don't drink, I just got wicked tired okay?"

"Yeah," coworker Matt Bruck jumped in, "me too. I don't even get it. Just came outta nowhere."

At that point, John and Rob also started to feel a little tired. As John was nodding off, he was jolted by a THUD! Glancing over to the door of the conference room, he saw Scott trying to kick the door down and he was accompanied by Kyle Kneille screaming for help. They gave up quickly, though, as Kyle hit the floor and Scott followed a few seconds later.

Then, not long afterward, John drifted to sleep as well, the last one of the group to fall.

Meanwhile, Nick sat at home on the computer, aimlessly surfing the web. He left briefly to go to the bathroom, and while he was in there, he thought he heard a noise. He quickly shrugged it off though, as his air conditioner occasionally made weird sounds. As he left the bathroom, he was shot in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. He fell to the floor in shock, and passed out a few seconds later. The man, who was completely covered in black and wore a mask, picked up Nick's unconscious body, and threw him in the back of a government SUV. He was alongside another unconscious body, that of fellow former coworker Bill Shearer.

…

**OFFICIAL BR88 FACT SHEET:**

**# - Name, Date Of Birth, Height, Weight**

**Men:**

1 – Kyle Kneille, 10/24/81, 5'9, 197 lbs.

2 – Artie McPhee, 3/2/89, 6'1, 174 lbs.

3 – Larry Tasoni, 2/15/59, 5'6, 151 lbs.

4 – Matt Bruck, 9/19/87, 6'2, 181 lbs.

5 – Taylor Allister, 11/18/84, 5'8, 211 lbs.

6 – Scott Whitley, 7/5/61, 5'9, 190 lbs.

7 – Conor Grady, 10/2/91, 5'6, 149 lbs.

8 – Pete Wallace, 1/30/65, 5'7, 157 lbs.

9 – Mitch Grenier, 4/16/81, 6'5, 241 lbs.

10 – Justin Haggard, 5/25/80, 5'8, 170 lbs.

11 – Bill Shearer, 12/6/75, 5'7, 163 lbs.

12 – Mike MacMillan, 3/28/82, 5'11, 172 lbs.

13 – Steve Umanov, 6/13/83, 5'7, 166 lbs.

14 – Rich Saldona, 6/30/79, 5'7, 206 lbs.

15 – Casey Gould, 3/15/90, 5'6, 159 lbs.

16 – John Carven, 4/27/87, 5'9, 187 lbs.

17 – Joe Willard, 8/6/85, 5'8, 196 lbs.

18 – Nick Ellis, 5/8/91, 5'11, 194 lbs.

19 – Ian Lynley, 10/14/88, 5'9, 175 lbs.

20 – Jerry Coogan, 9/27/49, 5'7, 198 lbs.

21 – Rob Lallin, 5/21/89, 5'10, 159 lbs.

**Women:**

1 – Claire Hunter, 7/18/63, 5'7, 148 lbs.

2 – Trish McGhee, 11/29/62, 5'6, 152 lbs.

3 – Bella Fennic, 6/4/78, 5'6, 162 lbs.

4 – Grace Bulworth, 10/9/91, 5'8, 132 lbs.

5 – Joanna Karlemyer, 1/18/82, 5'4, 122 lbs.

6 – Donita Lensora, 8/31/51, 5'7, 182 lbs.

7 – Linda Arnett, 5/12/47, 5'6, 138 lbs.

8 – Danielle Campbell, 2/19/90, 5'5, 155 lbs.

9 – Sydney Rillamy, 6/27/91, 5'6, 135 lbs.

10 – Janelle Kinison, 2/25/86, 5'7, 145 lbs.

11 – Rhonda Worlan, 12/1/85, 5'6, 171 lbs.

12 – Geena Foreman,10/5/92, 5'5, 140 lbs.

13 – Karen Remiton, 3/20/55, 5'4, 136 lbs.

14 – Laini Sossamon, 2/15/92, 5'9, 128 lbs.

15 – Rose Hussen, 9/30/86, 5'3, 116 lbs.

16 – Katherine Hollis, 4/4/93, 5'6, 124 lbs.

17 – Jackie Berkley, 5/30/90, 5'7, 130 lbs.

18 – Sarah Gilbert, 6/11/90, 5'8, 133 lbs.

19 – Brittany Holden, 3/12/89, 5'6, 128 lbs.

20 – Jessica Hobbins, 7/9/84, 5'6, 141 lbs.

21 – Anna Sheldon, 10/26/85, 5'10, 145 lbs.

Game to begin on July 22, 2010. All forty-two (42) players are to be fitted with explosive collars, which will explode automatically if tampered with, and may be detonated by remote. Remote detonation allowed in extreme circumstances ONLY. Collars are shockproof and waterproof, but are not bulletproof and will detonate if shot. Collars also fitted with heartbeat monitor and microphone.

At least one player must die every twelve (12) hours, or all collars will detonate automatically.

Program Administrator to be referred to ONLY as "Wayne". Administrator's assistants to be referred to ONLY as "Pat" and "Jim".


	2. The Conference Room

Thursday, July 22, 2010, 12:08 AM

Jackie Berkley (F17) woke up first, in a daze that felt like a mild hangover. She lay staring at the ceiling for about ten seconds before getting up and looking around. It was a vacant room with gray walls and a large steel door in one corner. Looking around, she discovered the disturbing sight of many of her coworkers lying on the floor, unconscious, much like she just was.

Jackie looked over to the person lying beside her, and after turning him over, she discovered that it was Casey Gould (M15), a shaggy-haired coworker whose schedule was usually 6-2:30 PM, a schedule that Jackie had vehemently refused to work in her job interview almost a year earlier (she often worked from 3:30 PM to closing at 10:00). She nudged him trying to wake him up. After a few seconds, Casey bolted to life and looked around.

"What the fuck is this?" Casey asked in a nervous tone.

"I don't know," Jackie replied, calm but nervously. "Help me wake everyone up."

The two quickly went to work waking their coworkers up. After waking a few up, she came across the unconscious body of Sydney Rillamy (F9), who had been fired seven months prior. What is she doing here? Jackie thought to herself. It took a second for Jackie to even remember her: Sydney worked in the backroom, like herself, and had changed her hair color once every few weeks (at the moment, her hair was magenta). After Sydney, Jackie came across the bodies of two more people who had quit, albeit more recently: Rich Saldona (M14), a short but overweight Hispanic (former) backroom worker who had left less than a month ago due to finding a better job, and who was not missed by many people due to acting like an overbearing supervisor even though he wasn't, and Nick Ellis (M18), who had left about three weeks before Rich did due to, apparently, being fed up with working there. Unlike Rich, however, Jackie liked Nick, and liked him even more when, after Nick had put in two weeks notice, he told her that she was one of the only people he ever truly enjoyed working with. On his last day, Jackie gave him a hug and said she would really miss him.

Casey, meanwhile, came across another employee who had left, only this employee, like Sydney, was fired: Bill Shearer (M11), who randomly decided to not show up to work only two weeks previously, and was fired over the phone by supervisor Scott Whitley (M6), whom Casey had woken up immediately before Bill.

After a few minutes, everyone in the room was awake. Some were freaking out, some were chatting with each other about what was happening, and some simply ignored everyone. Scott, who had been in the Marines when he was younger, decided to use his leadership skills that he had used on his truck-unloading team in the morning. Unfortunately, his morning team was absent from this game, with the exception of Taylor Allister (M5). Nevertheless, he was going to try.

"Okay everyone," Scott said calmly, "I know you're all scared. I'm scared too, okay? But we need to be calm and figure this out together and-"

"What is there to figure out?" Ian Lynley (M19) interrupted. "We're in The Program! You know, Battle Royale? Number one show in all of America!" Ian, a typically cynical and mostly obnoxious employee, who had dark hair and a seemingly perpetual five o'clock shadow, knew faster than anyone that they were in The Program. Everyone looked at each other, and some even started crying. Scott, however, despite knowing that Ian was probably right, tried to keep order in the group.

"We don't know that for sure," Scott lied. "We just know that-"

"WHAT? What do we know? That we've been kidnapped and put in a large prison cell in some random corner of the planet?" Ian was almost laughing now at the fact that Scott thought he could tell people everything was going to be all right.

While Scott and Ian continued to argue, Nick tried to stay in the back of the group. He found himself standing beside his crush Grace Bulworth (F4), a relatively new employee at SaveHouse who had very long brown hair and despite having an almost instantly noticeable acne problem, she was quite beautiful. Nick looked at her and saw that she was gently crying. He decided to walk over to her and try and talk to her.

"Grace," Nick said, "are you all right?" After asking it, he instantly regretted it, realizing what a stupid question it was.

She shook her head. "Please tell me this isn't happening. Tell me I'm dreaming."

"I don't know exactly what's happening," Nick said, "but I promise I'll try and keep you safe no matter what happens."

"Why? I mean, why me?"

Nick found himself struggling to find the right words to say. "Because you're my friend. I've always thought you were a good person."

Grace flashed a brief smile. After returning a brief smile, Nick noticed something on her neck. Grace looked at him, confused, then suddenly, she noticed something on his neck. They walked to each other and looked at the strange device.

"I think it's a collar," Nick said, nervously.

Grace then went to look at Nick's collar, when he noticed something else. This, however, was in her left hand. It was a number. Specifically, a red "4". He looked at his own hand and discovered a blue "18". He looked around to whoever had their left palm exposed. He found a red "21" on the palm of Anna Sheldon (F21) and a blue "7" on the palm of Conor Grady (M7). Nick deduced that all the men had a blue number and all the women had a red number. What the numbers meant, however, Nick had no clue.

Suddenly, the back wall of the room opened up. Scott and Ian instantly stopped fighting as six rows of tables, with seven seats at each table, automatically moved into the room. Everyone moved to the sides of the room to avoid the tables. As everyone tried to figure out what was going on, the large door at the front of the room suddenly opened. After the door opened all the way, three men walked in. The first two held M4 assault rifles and were dressed identically in black suits and sunglasses and even looked similar except for one man having blonde hair and the other having jet black hair. Afterward, a man in a dark blue suit with a red-and-yellow tie walked in. Everyone from the meeting earlier instantly recognized him as the man from corporate.

"Hello again everyone," the skinny and average-heighted fortysomething man said, "my name, at least to all of you, is Wayne. This blonde man on my left may be referred to as Pat, while my dark haired friend to my right may be called Pat. I would like all of you to take a seat." Wayne was in a very disturbing good mood.

Everyone in the room took a seat quickly.

"Now," Wayne continued, "we are going to continue our meeting. Except this meeting is going to end significantly differently than it did for your coworkers. I am the administrator of the most popular game show of all time. I'm sure you know what it is."

Pretty much everyone in the room knew what he was talking about. Ian was right.

"You have been chosen as the participants in the July 2010 installment of The Program, also known as Battle Royale!"

The room erupted in screams. One woman, Janelle Kinison (F10), ran towards the metal door and tried to open it. Pat grabbed her and attempted to pull her away, but she elbowed him in the groin and managed to open the door. However, Wayne walked calmly to the door, pulled out a Desert Eagle, and shot at Janelle as she ran down the hall. It took just two shots to hit her, and the fatal shot was delivered to the nape of her neck, severing her spine. The gunshots immediately silenced everyone in the room.

'I wish Janelle didn't have to die," Wayne said blankly, "but I also wish that no one, and I mean NO ONE, breaks the rules."

He paused.

"Oh yeah that's right, I forgot to mention that I've researched all of you for some time. I know all of your names, all of your ages...hell I've even seen some of you naked!"

The thought of that sent a shiver down the spines of all of the women in the room and even some of the men.

"Anyways, enough bullshitting. It's time to get to the rules. All of you have been fitted with a special collar."

The majority of the room hadn't noticed that they had collars on. Those who hadn't immediately felt their necks and felt the cold metal of the collar.

"Those collars are shockproof, waterproof, all kinds of proof. Just about every kind of proof except bulletproof. Keep that in mind. You'll get it later. Anyways, those collars will be used to monitor your vital signs and we will also use them to listen to any conversation you have. It's good for ratings for people to listen to you guys and it helps us make sure you aren't trying anything too ballsy."

He's getting off on this, Nick thought to himself.

"Every six hours, starting at 6:00 AM, I will make an announcement over the island's PA system telling you which of your coworkers have died. I will also announce three new 'danger zones', which are portions of the island that, after a certain time, will become off-limits, in order to increase the likelihood of encounters. If you are in a danger zone, your collar will detonate instantly, making it your last mistake. Ever."

Jackie shook her head, appalled at what she was hearing.

"The good news is that until the first announcement, there will be only one danger zone, and that is G2, which is the location of this building. It will become a danger zone ten minutes after the last of you leaves."

He paused.

"One last thing about the collars: if you attempt to take them off, they will detonate. There is, and I cannot stress this enough, NO way out of this collar, except to win. Am I clear?"

Several people nodded.

"Okay. Now for the basics. Upon leaving, you will all receive a duffel bag containing food, water, a map, a pen, a compass, and, best of all, a randomly designated weapon. Not all guns and knives, but if you're smart, you can find a way to kill someone with whatever weapon you receive. The only exceptions are three items which are not weapons, but still very, very useful nonetheless."

After that, Wayne snapped his fingers, and Pat and Jim left the room.

"They'll be waiting for all of you to give you your weapon. Before we begin, there is one last rule that I need to tell you about: if twelve hours pass without at least one kill, every single collar on this island will detonate. Remember January 2008? Thirty-one people dead in the blink of an eye through gruesome decapitation. That season sucked in my opinion. But I digress. Are there any questions? Comments? Complaints? Death lists you wish to share? Anyone?"

Rich raised his hand.

"Yes Rich?"

"Um...hey...I don't work with these people anymore. I got a new job. There must be some mistake, right?"

"Rich my friend, do you honestly think we didn't know that? What do you think we're sitting here scratching our balls all day? We thought it could motivate you to fight and the people love 'motivatees', as I call 'em."

"No...please I'll do anything! Please!"

Wayne cocked his head. "Like kill everyone around you?"

Rich was silent. Then he sat back down.

"Anyone else?" Wayne asked.

John Carven (M16), Nick's old friend from SaveHouse who had a Mohawk of red hair with a long red beard, raised his hand.

"Yes John?"

After being slightly taken aback by Wayne knowing his name, John continued. "What's the battlefield like? And for that matter are we on an island? In a forest? What?"

"Well John we are on an island. An island one hundred and fifty miles away from the nearest large landmass. And this island has a whole neighborhood community. Houses are all over the island and all of you are free to use them how you want. You'd all be surprised at how willing the homeowners were to give up their homes for our program. And the weather, by the way, is expected to be quite nice today, so enjoy."

John nodded, and sat back down.

"Any more? I'm patient."

Casey raised his hand.

"Casey?"

Casey stood up, with a look of pure anger in his eyes. "How can you do this to people? Do you enjoy being the brains behind some fucking gladiator match that sells for a hundred bucks on pay-per-view? Do you enjoy watching women have to fight off some sick rapist threatening to shoot her head off if he doesn't lay him?"

The whole room watched as Casey seemingly dug his own grave.

Wayne pulled a remote out of his pocket and pointed it at Casey. Pressing one button, Casey's collar began to blink.

"You might want to think this through kid. You're dead if you push your luck further."

"Y'know what, fine! I'd rather die than cater to you sociopathic government freaks!"

"Done."

With another press, Casey's collar detonated, sending chunks of his head, neck, and shoulders all over the room. Everyone in the room found themselves with at least some of Casey on their body. Jackie, sitting right next to Casey, was covered almost completely from the waist up, but she was in too much shock to notice.

"Oh well. I don't like odd numbers anyways. Especially forty-one; yuck."

The entire room was still too shocked to notice.

"Any MORE questions?"

No one raised their hand.

"Good. Then let's get this started! We'll go ladies first, meaning that we'll start with female number one, then male number one, then female number two, and so forth. And after I call your name, you have twenty seconds to get out of the building before the next number is called. Got it? Good. So, let's get the ball rolling and start with F1, Claire Hunter."

The middle-aged human resources worker slowly walked to the door and left. Down the hall, Pat and Jim were standing in front of a flat, ironically one from SaveHouse, and Jim pointed his M4 directly at Claire Hunter (F1) while Pat threw her a duffel bag. Then Claire ran outside and disappeared into the wilderness.

As Wayne continued calling everyone's number, Nick did a quick count and realized that Grace would be the seventh person to leave while he would be the seventh-to-last leave. He couldn't tell her to wait for him, as twenty-six people would leave between them.

Damn!

"F4, Grace Bulworth."

Grace stood up and calmly walked from her seat in the back row to the door, caught her bag, and left.

Wayne continued calling numbers.

"M16, John Carven."

Nick's longtime friend walked from his seat in the third row to the hallway, where he caught his bag and left the building.

"F17, Jackie Berkley."

Nick's OTHER longtime friend, who was short and petite with jet black hair and glasses, walked quickly to the hallway, caught her bag and made her way to the exit. Upon exiting the building, she was shocked to come across John, who had apparently waited for her to come out. She jumped when she saw him.

"John! What the hell are you-"

"Come with me! You'll be safe I promise!"

"Why? Why should I trust you?"

"This is why:"

He then pulled a Desert Eagle, exactly like the one Wayne had, out from behind his back. Jackie, who had never liked John very much due to him usually coming off as a slacker, was now terrified.

"Oh shit!"

She turned to run, but John grabbed her and tackled her into a bush and covered her mouth with his hand. He did this so that the next person out the door wouldn't attack in case he was playing. As they hid, they watched Joe Willard (M17), a chubby African-American who worked at SaveHouse's snack bar, leave the building. He ran quickly into the woods.

"Listen Jackie, you want to know that you can trust me? Here."

He then put his Desert Eagle into her hand.

"If that's not trust," John said, "I don't know what is."

Jackie nodded. "O-okay."

"Let's go. Quickly!" The two of them quickly disappeared into the treeline.

After watching his old high-school classmate Sarah Gilbert (F18) leave before him, Nick's number was called.

"M18, Nick Ellis."

Without hesitation, the long-haired, bespectacled former employee ran to the hallway, caught his bag, and went outside. Quickly reaching into his bag, he pulled his weapon: a wooden baseball bat.

"It'll do," he said to himself.

After that, he ran into the woods, well aware he was about to be in hell.

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15**

**Females**

**#10**

**40 Contestants Remaining**


	3. Partnership

Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 12:52 AM

Joanna Karlemyer (F5), an executive worker at SaveHouse, used her flashlight to look at her watch. Almost one in the morning, it read. She had been on the island for over a half hour and had, so far, avoided confrontation. In fact, she hadn't even heard any screams or gunfire or anything bad so far.

Twenty-eight year old Joanna was not only well known amongst the employees at the store because she was a supervisor, but she was also well known because she was incredibly beautiful. Standing at just 5'4 and weighing just over 120 lbs., she was in very good physical shape, and on top of that she had a very pretty face and a head of shoulder length blonde hair. Several guys from SaveHouse had asked her out on dates, even seeing the large diamond engagement ring on her hand. She had always politely declined, refusing to cheat on her soon-to-be husband Jeff.

She would give anything to be in his arms right now.

Joanna had hoped for a half-decent weapon, but she was stuck with quite possibly the worst weapon on the island: a pencil. A common-as-dirt, yellow #2 pencil. Maybe if she was in special ops she could make it useful, but as a chain store employee she was in serious trouble.

Joanna found a small church about a half mile away from the starting building and went inside. She hadn't been to church in a long time; not because she had lost her faith, but simply because she no longer wanted to go. However, she now thought it was as good a time as any to speak to God again.

She walked to the door of the church and found it unlocked (every building on the island was unlocked but were still lockable) and went inside.

However, Joanna would not get to speak to God right now.

Sydney Rillamy was already inside the church kneeling on a pew, and turned around unafraid when she heard the door open. Joanna jumped at the sight of her. She didn't even remember Sydney at first.

"Hey Joanna," Sydney said blankly.

"Uh...hey," Joanna said, still trying to remember her.

"Do you remember me?"

Joanna was confused. After a pause, she finally confessed. "No sorry I don't-"

"You fired me," Sydney said calmly. "Back in December."

Suddenly, Joanna remembered. "Yes I remember. Sydney right?"

Sydney nodded, still kneeling on the pew. She was now silent.

"Listen Sydney," Joanna said, afraid of where this conversation was going, "I was just doing my job. It was nothing personal. Please don't hurt me because of it."

Sydney glared at her with a blank look. "I wouldn't kill someone just because she fired me."

Joanna felt relieved...briefly...

"But it's not a bad place to start."

Joanna's heart sank. Then, Sydney picked up her weapon, which was sitting on the bench out of Joanna's view.

It was a hatchet. Without hesitation, Joanna ran out the door, which she luckily left open, and ran as fast as she could to get away from Sydney, who sure enough was chasing her.

Joanna was running down a paved road with Sydney in hot pursuit. The former thought she was as good as dead. Suddenly, gunshots rung out. Could this get any worse? Joanna thought.

Five shots were fired, but none of them hit. In fact, none of them were even aimed at Joanna. They were aimed at Sydney. While she wasn't hit, she did run away through a yard, leaving Joanna alone. As she stood dumbfounded at what had just happened, she was suddenly grabbed from behind and dragged into a house. She tried screaming, but her mouth was held shut. She was so scared, she didn't even realize that another person grabbed her on the way in.

"Calm down Joanna you're safe!" one of the grabbers said. Joanna, previously face down, turned over and recognized Kyle Kneille (M1), the store's maintenance chief who was the only employee exempt from wearing the store colors of a green shirt and khaki pants. She was fairly relieved to see him.

"Thank you Kyle," she said through tears. "I thought she was gonna kill me!"

She couldn't finish the sentence without choking up.

"You'll be okay with us," the other voice said. Joanna looked up and saw a man with his face covered by night-vision goggles, one of the three non-deadly weapons that Wayne had mentioned earlier. He removed them and she recognized the man instantly as Scott Whitley, her longtime friend who had helped her get her executive title at SaveHouse. She was ecstatic to see him.

"Oh Scott I'm so happy to see you!" she said happily as she jumped up and hugged him.

"Joanna could you keep it down?" Kyle suddenly jumped in. "Or do you want us to be found?"

Joanna realized he was right.

"Sorry," she said quieter.

"Okay Joanna look," Scott said, "we're in the Battle Royale program now and if we just stand around, best-case-scenario two of us end up dead. Me and Kyle plan to fight this however we can, but we need more than three people. We're gonna be looking for recruits more or less, but we may not be able to trust everyone. If someone tries to hurt us, do you think you can kill someone if it comes to that?"

Joanna closed her eyes and sighed and then she pulled out her designated pencil.

"I doubt it," she said bluntly.

"It's all right," Kyle jumped in, "I got us covered."

Then, Kyle pulled a Makarov PM 1971 model pistol from behind his back. "It's old as shit but it still works."

Joanna was happy to now be with someone with a gun.

"Listen Joanna," Scott continued, "we can beat this somehow. You'll see Jeff again just like Kyle will see Emily again."

Kyle nodded, confident he would see his fiance again as well.

"Are you in or out Joanna?" Scott asked.

Joanna smiled. "I'm in."

"Glad to have you," Scott said warmly.

Joanna was now starting to feel hopeful that maybe, just maybe, she'll get out of this alive.

…

_Monday, May 17, 2010. Local time: 3:30 PM_

_John Carven and Mitch Grenier were working in the backroom of SaveHouse, stocking items that wouldn't fit on the shelves on the sales floor. They were chatting casually as they worked._

"_It was the single greatest kill in online gaming history!" John said, talking about something he witnessed while playing online multiplayer mode of his favorite game._

"_Man that's fuckin' awesome," the tall and muscular Mitch agreed. "I haven't played online in a while cause I got too much goin' on lately and-"_

_Mitch was interrupted by Nick Ellis slamming a tub of materials into a post._

"_Gimme a fucking break!" Nick cursed angrily. He kicked the tub into position where all of the tubs are put. Then he stormed towards John and Mitch, planning to get another tub to push to the sales floor._

"_You alright man?" John asked as Nick approached._

"_I fucking hate this place and everyone in it."_

"_What happened?" Mitch asked._

_Nick took a deep breath, knowing he'd kill someone if he didn't. Then he told the story._

"_I was walking by the seasonal area with all the furniture and a woman asked for help. I did what I could, but I couldn't help with what she wanted. Then she goes off on this self-righteous rant, while her young daughter is standing next to her, mind you, telling me that I'll never amount to anything and she'll pray for me tonight and all that stupid BULLSHIT. Fuck her, fuck everyone who comes in the door, fuck everyone like her, all the pretentious, self-righteous, stuck-up, snooty, yuppie DOUCHEBAGS of this fucking planet!"_

_Nick then stormed off to grab another cart of materials to push to the sales floor. As he went to the pushable items, Matt Bruck passed by._

"_Hey man how you doing?" Matt said kindly._

"_Fuck off," Nick said, still agitated._

"_EXCUSE ME?" a female voice screamed out from behind. Nick turned around and saw executive Joanna walk out of a nearby aisle of backstock materials._

_Nick realized he was in trouble. He just stared as Joanna walked towards him._

"_Why did you just say that?" Joanna said, upset. "You should never use that kind of language to a co-worker ANYWAY, but he just said hi to you! What's the matter with you?"_

_Nick just stared blankly._

"_You do realize you can get fired for that, right?"_

_Nick was silent. "I just don't care anymore. I really don't. All the customers are assholes, the majority of my coworkers are assholes, my family is as stable as a Jenga tower in an earthquake, really why should I care if I get fired from SaveHouse?"_

_Joanna was about to tell him to go home, when Nick did something unexpected._

_He started crying. He slumped down against the wall and wept curled up in a ball. He couldn't have possibly looked more pathetic._

_Joanna couldn't fire him like this. Well, she legally could, but she didn't have the heart for it. Instead she knelt down beside him._

"_I hate my life," he said through tears. "I really hate my fucking life!"_

_John, Mitch, and Matt all walked over, feeling bad for Nick._

"_What happened?" Joanna asked._

"_Does it matter?" Nick said quietly, still sobbing._

_Joanna paused. "I guess not."_

_As the guys watched Joanna comfort Nick, John glanced over and saw Grace Bulworth approaching. John knew that Nick liked Grace and he didn't think that Nick would want her to see him like this._

"_What's going on?" Grace asked. She then went to look._

"_Nick's lost it," Matt said. "I always kinda thought he was wired wrong though."_

"_Hey man take it easy," John said in his friend's defense, "he's just having a really bad day."_

"_Yeah well one too many bad days for him can lead to our last day, if you know what I mean."_

_John was getting agitated. "No, actually I don't. Why don't you say it?"_

"_I think he has the potential to go postal on us all. Y'know, show up with an Uzi and shoot us all."_

"_Hey don't say that," Grace said, "that's mean."_

"_He may have a point though," Mitch jumped in. "This guy get's pissed over anything. Best-case-scenario he kills himself instead-"_

"_WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT? LEAVE ME ALONE!" Nick screamed at the group._

"_Okay Nick you need to calm down," Joanna said, "but everyone, could you please give him some space?"_

_John, Mitch, Matt, and Grace all walked away._

"_Nick," Joanna said calmly, "I'm sorry that you're this upset. I think maybe you should leave."_

"_Yeah I'm leaving," Nick said, still crying. "And I'm not coming back. Ever."_

"_Nick c'mon don't say that-"_

"_Too late. I quit. Goodbye."_

_He then stood up and walked to the door to the sales floor. He made his way to the main office to get his things from his locker, with Joanna following, and then, as if to add insult to injury, he found himself face-to-face with the woman who had made him such a wreck. He attempted to just walk by her, praying she didn't see him, but she did._

"_Hey Nick," the woman said, remembering his nametag, "I'm glad to see you again. This time I can get you fired for being so rude to me and my daughter."_

_Nick figured he had nothing to lose at this point. "Ma'am, you were rude to me. I've never been so insulted in my life. I'm saying this to you now because I have nothing to lose because I quit. I'm done dealing with customers like you."_

_Joanna attempted to break things up. "Nick just let it go-"_

"_Ma'am," the woman said, "could you possibly get a supervisor?"_

"_I am the supervisor," Joanna said._

"_Oh perfect, cause I have a question. How come you hired this piece of human garbage?"_

_Nick stormed off at this point. If he didn't, he would take the box cutter out of his pocket and slash this woman's throat._

"_Excuse me sir that's rude!" the woman said._

_Joanna was stunned beyond words at this woman. Who can call someone "human garbage" and then find it rude when the person she directs it to storms off?_

"_Ma'am I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't disrespect my employees."_

"_Don't talk to me like that I'm a guest here!"_

"_I'm not being rude ma'am I just-"_

"_You just nothing. You can't talk back to customers that way! This whole place is filled with human garbage. That's how that loser got hired."_

_Joanna was finished. "Ma'am I'm gonna have to ask you to leave right now._

"_Fuck you! You can't throw me outta here!"_

"_HEY!" Scott said, arriving at the scene. "Disrespect another employee of mine, and you're banned from the store for a year. Do you understand me?"_

_The woman and her daughter stormed off, not believing that she was the rude one._

"_I feel sorry for her daughter," Joanna said. "She's gonna grow up to be just like her mom."_

"_So Nick just quit?" Scott said, changing the subject._

"_Yeah," Joanna said. "I nearly fired him but I didn't have the heart. He collapsed back there. And frankly I don't blame him."_

_Scott then saw Nick walking out the door of the office and towards the exit._

"_I'm gonna see if I can talk him into coming back," Joanna said._

_Scott nodded._

_Joanna called Nick at home later that night and did convince him to come to work the following day. It didn't matter much though as he officially quit just two weeks later._

…

Nick figured that the events of that day led to him being chosen for the program despite not working there anymore.

They thought he would become a murderer. They thought he would be so fed up with everything that he would take his anger out on his ex-coworkers. But they were wrong. Nick wouldn't kill anyone here that callously. He wouldn't even kill that annoying woman in cold blood.

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15**

**Females**

**#10**

**40 Contestants Remaining**


	4. Invisible

Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 1:40 AM

Wayne, Pat, and Jim could do nothing but sit and watch. The game had been underway for almost an hour and a half, but no one (excluding Janelle and Casey in the conference room) had been killed yet; the most action that was seen so far was Sydney's attempted murder of Joanna, followed by Scott failing to shoot Sydney, and that was forty-five minutes ago.

"Think it'll be another Jan-oh-eight?" Jim asked, referring to the January 2008 season which ended with an early collar detonation after twelve hours passed without a kill.

"I doubt it," Pat said, "this year, we're doing something new, remember?"

Jim was confused.

"Oh c'mon, dumbass, do you remember anything I tell you?" Pat snapped.

"Now Pat," Wayne, the man in charge, cut in, "no need to be rude. Allow me to remind you that we've got a sleeper this season."

Jim remembered now.

"Nothing to worry about Jim, my sleeper would never let me down. We've known each other for over twenty years."

…

Twenty-nine year old Mitch Grenier (M9), at first glance, was scary to look at. He stood at an imposing six feet, five inches tall, and was built like a club bouncer. Not only had he told several coworkers that he had been in many fights before, but he had the scars to prove it: he was missing at least three teeth and had a nasty scar on his forearm. He had long reddish-blond hair tied in a ponytail and wore glasses, which appeared to be almost too small for his face.

Nothing about his physical appearance made it look like he was gay. But he was.

His secret was revealed when he was in the ninth grade in 1995, and he was bullied mercilessly because of it. In the summer of 1996, between freshman and sophomore year, he had an incredible growth spurt of six inches, going from five-foot-five to five-foot-eleven, and he started working out. In his first week of sophomore year, a classmate harassed him, and he responded by breaking his harasser's arm, getting him suspended for two weeks. He was never harassed again.

When the new government took over, a law against homosexuality was put into place (like what was used in the Greater Republic Of East Asia), meaning that gay people were to be, as the government un-subtly put it, exterminated. Mitch was safe, though, as he had scared his classmates straight (pardon the pun) and no one said anything.

Now, however, Mitch was trapped in the closet forever if he wanted to live.

Of course, gay or not, he just had to get out of here. Though he had arguably one of the weaker weapons on the island, which was a pair of brass knuckles, with his strength, he thought that he very well could make good use out of them.

CH-CHK! "Put your hands up!"

Mitch did so without much hesitation, as he recognized the voice as that of Mike MacMillan (M12), a tall and skinny coworker who Mitch didn't think had the guts to shoot him. Mitch slowly, without fear, turned around and looked at Mike, who was holding a SPAS-12 shotgun.

"C'mon dude," Mitch said calmly, "you don't want to do this. Don't try and convince me otherwise."

Mike smirked. "You're right man. I don't wanna hurt ya. But I want your help. And considering that I think those brass knuckles are your only weapon, then you want mine."

Mitch nodded. "Why do you want my help?"

Mike smirked again. "Because if I'm gonna die here, I wanna have some...FUN, first."

"What do you mean man?"

"I'm sure you've noticed that there are some good-looking girls that work with us, right?"

Mitch paused, and then nodded.

"If we're goin' out, let's go out with a bang, if you catch my drift...whataya say?"

Mitch was stunned. As powerful as he was, he didn't think he could ever bring harm to a woman. But, then again, Mike's shotgun was pretty powerful and while he didn't think Mike would shoot him, Mitch did think that there were people on the island who could.

Mitch made up his mind.

"Here's the deal Mike: I can't bring myself to do that to a woman. I just can't."

Mitch had trouble saying what he said next.

"But, if you let me hold the gun, I'll watch over you while you...do it."

Mike smiled. "You got a deal bro! If you want any women here though, just say the word, and I'll watch YOUR back."

"Um...thanks, but no. I have someone back home." (He didn't really.)

"Your loss then, I guess. More pussy for me!" Mike said with a laugh.

"Yeah," Mitch said, faking a chuckle.

…

Bill Shearer (M11) didn't get it. He quit SaveHouse for a reason: he was tired of being treated like garbage. Only two weeks before, he stopped showing up at work, and after three straight days of not calling in, his supervisor Scott called him at home and fired him over the phone. But Bill didn't care. In the amount of time he worked there, no one took him seriously, and at his position in the backroom of the store, he was used at not much more than a mule. Interestingly, Bill had tried to quit before. Shortly before New Year's, Bill told Nick, one of the few coworkers who didn't treat him like he was worthless, that he was done, and went home in the middle of his shift, leaving Nick and Rhonda Worlan (F11) alone to do the bulk of the work themselves. However, Trish called him the next day and convinced him to come back. He ended up regretting it. In April, he was working with Mitch in the backroom; Mitch was on a ladder handing boxes down to Bill. Unfortunately, Bill accidentally put his finger on the ladder, a well known no-no when doing that particular task, and Mitch nearly severed it when he put a heavy box on it. Scott called 911 right away, but Bill passed out before the paramedics arrived. When they arrived, they found Bill's finger hanging by a thread. It was stitched back on, and Bill spent two days in the hospital and two weeks out of work. Finally, in early July, Bill left for good.

At thirty-four, with no high school diploma or college degree, the inability to hold on to a job for longer than a year, a criminal record, and an eight-year-old daughter he never sees, it was safe to call Bill a deadbeat and a loser. But with a prize of total removal of criminal records and brief, but valuable, fame for the winner (potentially leading to a lot of money), Bill thought it could be a good chance to get his life turned around for good: he could see his daughter, start a business, and be set for life.

Armed with a katana sword, Bill figured he could be a contender. But did he have what it takes to kill another person?

Just then, Bill heard a noise nearby. In the darkness, employees of SaveHouse were somewhat visible with their light beige khaki pants, and maybe the green shirt they all had to wear depending on how bright it was. But Bill, being kidnapped at his home, was wearing dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt, meaning he was almost impossible to see in the dark. Were it not for his pasty-white skin, he would have been completely invisible. Taking refuge by leaning against a tree, Bill quietly took out his sword and saw a shadow moving toward him. After a minute, he realized that it was Brittany Holden (F19), a pretty twenty-one-year-old with dirty blonde hair and a petite figure who usually worked in the clothing section of SaveHouse but once in a while worked as a cashier. Bill had nothing against her, but he was unafraid of her. As she approached, Bill saw that she was holding a switchblade, so he had to be careful. When she passed the tree he was hiding beside, without hesitation, Bill attacked, and ran his sword into her back, through her liver, and out of her chest. She gasped in pain, and Bill removed the sword. She fell to the ground, and looked up to see her attacker.

Bill looked down to her. "I'm sorry Brittany, it wasn't personal."

She tried to say something more, but could only say one thing:

"F-f-f-f-fuck y-y-y-you-u..."

She died ten seconds later.

"I'm sorry," Bill repeated.

Bill felt some remorse for killing Brittany, but not enough. Thinking that her switchblade would make a decent back-up weapon, he took it, folded the blade away, and put it in his pocket. He then put his katana sword back in its sheath and put it back in his duffel bag. After rummaging through Brittany's bag, he took her food and water, and disappeared, armed with the knowledge that he was not afraid to kill another person.

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15**

**Females**

**#10**

**40 Contestants Remaining**


	5. Cracking?

Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 2:03 AM

Jackie may have been more or less allied with John now, but she was not particularly happy about it. At SaveHouse, she had hated him: she thought he was an annoying slacker who never did his job (though this was mostly because she was blinded by how much she didn't like him; he was half decent at his backroom job). But as much as she didn't like him, she would rather be with him now, considering he was wielding a Desert Eagle and she had a flare gun, with only one flare (she would never try to use it to signal a passing boat for help, because she assumed that that would be met with instant death by collar).

When John had earlier asked Wayne about what the island was like, Wayne mentioned that there was a small community of houses, and the two of them were now looking for them, heading northeast from the starting building on a paved road. They had passed a church, whose door was wide open, and were now getting close to the neighborhood.

"How much further John?" Jackie asked, ending their minutes-long silence.

"I don't know," John asked, "but it can't be too much longer."

Jackie changed the subject. "What're we gonna do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, about this game...can we get out?"

John sighed. "As much as I'd love to be the one to take this game down, it's just not gonna happen. We should focus on keeping ourselves alive."

Jackie was afraid to ask, but she did anyway.

"What if we're the last two?"

John paused. "I think it'd be better if we just dealt with that when it happens, IF it happens."

"I agree."

Thanks to the ¾ full moon shining brightly that night, visibility was a little enhanced for the contestants. It helped Bill to see and murder Brittany, and it helped John and Jackie to see the neighborhood earlier than if there was no moonlight at all.

"Let's go check it out," John said.

…

Scott and Joanna searched the house, while Kyle sat in the second-floor bedroom watching for others with his Makarov pistol and Scott's night-vision goggles. He had seen only one person pass by so far, and while he couldn't tell who it was, he could tell that he (Kyle was guessing that it was a man) was carrying some kind of machine gun. The mysterious person had disappeared into a yard down the street and never came near their house. But now, Kyle saw two figures coming down the street, and he saw that one of them was carrying a gun. As they got closer, he could make out that it was one man and one woman. Kyle ran to the stairs.

"Scott!" Kyle called, but just loud enough for Scott to hear and not the approaching strangers. "I think we have company."

Scott ran up the stairs, while Joanna stayed in the basement she was searching, having not heard Kyle.

"Can you tell who they were?" Scott asked.

"Not yet," Kyle responded as he got back to the window, seeing that the figures were getting closer. He adjusted the goggles to better make out their faces.

John Carven and Jackie Berkley.

"It's John and Jackie," Kyle told Scott, "and they're getting closer."

Joanna, having seen them from the window in the basement, quickly but quietly went into the room.

"Guys," she said, "there are two people coming."

"We know," Kyle snapped.

"What if they come in here?" Joanna asked.

"Well," Scott replied, "we need more manpower, so we'd give them a chance to join us-"

"No," Kyle jumped in, "not him."

"Excuse me?" Scott was confused.

"He's worthless, and I don't like him. He's a terrible employee and I'm gonna shoot him if he walks in."

Joanna was horrified. Kyle, who hated John even more than Jackie did, was dead serious.

"Listen Kyle," Scott said, angered and shocked at what Kyle was saying, "everything from work is over now. We're in Battle Royale now, and if we wanna have any chance of beating this, we need more people. Get over yourself, and give him a chance."

Scott and Kyle stared each other down, but Joanna interrupted.

"It doesn't matter now boys, they're gone."

Scott and Kyle then looked out the window and saw the two of them moving further down the street.

Scott sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter now." He then grabbed Kyle. "Do anything like that again, I'll shoot you dead, do you understand me?"

Kyle glared at him. "You're not the one with the gun."

"Guys, please," Joanna jumped in, "we can't fight like this. I can't listen to it!" She started to cry. Scott sat down next to her on the bed and tried to comfort her.

"If someone walks in," Scott said to Kyle in an authoritative tone, "we give them a chance. And if they attack us, THEN we shoot them. Am I perfectly clear?"

Kyle nodded, annoyed at how Scott was talking down to him.

…

"Let's try this one," Jackie said as they passed a fairly nice-looking house.

"No," John replied, "I want one with an attic window."

"Why?"

"So I can see someone coming from further away-" John was cut off, and he instantly aimed his gun at the man aiming his double-barreled shotgun at them. "Stand behind me Jackie!" John ordered, to which Jackie almost instantly complied.

The shotgun-wielding man stepped closer to them, and John recognized him: Rob Lallin (M21), one of the electronics clerks of the store who had long and straight dirty blonde hair and a scruffy-looking beard. He was a friendly coworker, but John had no idea if he would be the kind of person who would snap in this situation. The fact that Rob didn't shoot him on sight was relatively comforting.

"Hey man," Rob said stoically.

Unable to think of a better response, John said "hey" back.

"Please don't hurt us," Jackie jumped in.

"I don't wanna shoot you man," John added, "so don't make me."

Rob grinned. "I don't think you have it in you," he taunted.

John gave him a dirty look, but didn't move.

"See? You'd have shot me there and then if you really did have it in you." Rob was pushing him, but John still didn't react much.

"I'd have shot you," John finally said, "...if you drew on us. Let's make THAT clear."

Rob nodded. "Fair enough." He paused for a moment. "And I don't want to shoot you either."

"Then just let me and Jackie walk away."

"Okay." At that, Rob disappeared in the shadows.

"Should we have teamed up with him?" Jackie asked.

"Not with him," John said. "He looks like he wants to keep moving, and to be completely honest, I doubt I can keep up with him." Pause. "You could join him, I guess."

Jackie thought for a second. "Well, I don't know if I could either, honestly. Besides, I don't know which way he went, so it's probably too late now."

"You could catch up if you wanted."

Jackie paused. "No, I'd rather rest."

John nodded. "Okay."

John looked up at the house next to them. "This one should be fine."

"What if there's someone in there?"

John grinned and held up his gun, and Jackie grinned back.

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15**

**Females**

**#10, #19**

**39 Contestants Remaining**


	6. Age

Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 2:18 AM

Grace Bulworth (F4) had to have been in a nightmare. This simply can't be real, she thought to herself repeatedly She had just started attempting to get her life together.

At only eighteen, nineteen in a few months, Grace had already lived through troubled teenage years, something she had never once mentioned to any of her coworkers; in fact, she hadn't told any of her coworkers much of anything (several didn't even know her last name, as the schedule at work only displayed the first three letters of the employees' last names). At fifteen, Grace was busted with marijuana in her school locker, getting her immediately expelled from school and putting her on six-month probation. She refused to go back to (another) school, which her parents constantly fought her about. The day after her probation was lifted, she ran away from her home in Hanson, Massachusetts, and stayed on the run for over a year and a half. She was taken in by a kind family in northern Illinois, and even got a job at a local fast food restaurant. However, she was eventually fired, and decided to go home to her parents at age seventeen. Her parents refused to have anything to do with her, so Grace was forced to live with her aunt and uncle in Norwell. She did earn her GED, and once she turned eighteen, she started looking for a job. It wasn't until April of 2010 when she finally landed a job at SaveHouse, just a stone's throw from her aunt's and uncle's house.

Grace finally thought her life was on the right track, with her job as well as her boyfriend Jamie. But the third full week of July sent her life downwards; she broke up with Jamie just three days before being thrown into The Program after she discovered he was cheating on her.

Moving towards the east (avoiding the houses because she figured many people were going there) on a hiking trail and armed with a straight razor, she knew she needed to either meet up with someone with a gun, or sneak up on someone and slash his or her throat. Grace REALLY hoped for the former.

"PSST! Grace!" A voice called out from behind.

Instinctively, Grace pulled her razor out of her pocket. She was terrified upon seeing the gun her caller was carrying, but calmed down when she realized who it was: Matt Bruck (M4), a tall, bespectacled, normally friendly employee who worked with Grace a lot, especially when she was new to the store. Diagnosed with a mild form of Tourette's Syndrome, Matt blinked and twitched a lot, which was almost instantly noticeable.

"Oh Matt," Grace said, relieved to see a trusted friend. "Thank God! Am I happy to see you!"

Matt flashed a friendly smile. "Good to see you too Grace."

Matt had the number "4" on his hand, the same as Grace. When he was called immediately after her, he ran out the door hoping to catch her, but she had taken off running and he didn't know which way she had gone. Matt wanted to take care of her, and, armed with a Colt Defender pistol, he thought...no, he KNEW he could.

No matter what.

"Listen," Matt continued, "it's not safe for you out here. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, so you should come with me. You don't have a gun, I see."

Grace shook her head, and showed him her razor. Matt took it and studied it.

"Ever see the movie 'Reservoir Dogs'?" Matt asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

"No," Grace replied, confused. "Why?"

"Well," Matt continued, "in that movie, there was a pretty intense scene where this one guy cuts off a cop's ear with a razor like this. So don't think it's completely worthless."

Grace looked at him and snarked, "I didn't wanna go around cutting people's ears off anyway."

Matt chuckled. "I've always liked your sense of humor-SHH! Get down!"

Grace, now worried, hit the ground. She clutched her razor tightly with the blade drawn.

Matt pointed his gun towards the trees, having heard a sound that Grace didn't hear.

…

At sixty-three, Linda Arnett (F7), who ran the snack bar at SaveHouse, was the oldest contestant in the game. She was one of only two grandparents on the island, the other being the oldest male contestant and second oldest overall, fifty-nine-year-old Jerry Cooper (M20). While Linda was in reasonably good health for her age, she was fairly short and very weak. If she was given a gun she may have had a shot, but all she got was a lousy, generic, common-as-dirt wrench. She figured that it could at least give someone a throbbing headache with it if she was stronger, but for her entire life, she had been physically weak compared to other people.

Linda rarely watched The Program, but when she did (usually due to her husband of thirty-five years Charles watching and betting on it), she had never seen anyone older than fifty participating. She had just assumed that people were exempt after a certain age. Was Charles watching right now? Was he betting on her? For that matter, were her three kids and/or five grandchildren watching too? She hoped they (well, not her grandchildren) were watching, but not betting.

As she made her way down a hiking trail, she saw the red light of a camera up in one of the trees. If she had a gun, she might have shot it, despite damaging cameras being punishable by death (usually; if a strong competitor did it, they would probably be left alone, at least until they destroyed more than a few). She ignored it, and kept on walking down the hiking trail, heading toward the east, hoping to avoid the houses that most people were likely going to.

…

"Grace," Matt whispered, "get in the trees."

Grace complied, afraid that a threat was approaching. She knew Matt well enough to know that he would look to see who it was, and that he'd only shoot if the person approaching turned out to be a threat.

At least, Grace THOUGHT she knew him well enough.

Grace noticed Linda the snack lady coming down the path and, considering she was at least in her sixties and seeing the wrench she was holding, figured she wasn't a threat. Matt wouldn't shoot an old lady, would he?

BLAM! BLAM! Two loud gunshots rang out.

Grace was wrong about Matt. She watched in horror as her supposed friend was responsible for the death of a harmless old woman. She turned to Matt, whose pistol was smoking.

"It's okay Grace. It's okay." Matt said it like Grace just spilled something on his floor.

Grace was speechless. She wanted to say something, but just couldn't find the right words. Is this all it took for the game to change people? The game had been on for not even two hours yet, and she just witnessed one of her closest friends from work murder someone in cold blood.

"People will have heard those shots, Grace. We need to keep moving."

Grace was frozen in place. She stared at Matt in shock; he was confused.

"What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Somehow, Grace pushed herself to follow him. She was torn right now: she didn't want to be with a cold-blooded murderer, but he had made it apparent that he didn't want to hurt her, and on top of that, he had a weapon that could protect them.

But was she protected from him?

…

Geena Foreman (F12), a short, slightly chubby customer service worker, hid in the bushes next to the building as the coworkers were sent into the game one by one. It was risky, but Geena decided it was worth it to catch up with her friend and classmate Katherine Hollis (F16), a red-haired and normally quiet girl who also worked customer service from time to time and had known Geena since middle school.

Luckily, none of the six people (it would have been seven if it weren't for Casey's early death) noticed her in the bushes and when Katherine exited, Geena called out to her, and the two decided to move along towards the southeast, where on her map Geena saw an old but large mansion overlooking the ocean.

"Do you think there may be someone there?" Katherine asked.

"I don't know," Geena said, "but I'm willing to check it out." As she said this, she motioned to her Smith & Wesson .38 Chief's Special in her waistline. It was small, but a gun is a gun and like waiting for Katherine, Geena was willing to take the risk.

Katherine, armed with a potentially lethal machete, would stand by her friend no matter where she suggested they go. She knew Geena was a risk-taker, which was part of the reason she liked her so much. Customer services at SaveHouse was usually a miserable job, but when Geena and Katherine were together, they could get through the day like it was nothing.

But this situation would definitely put a major strain on their friendship. Geena was trying not to think about it, but Katherine had. And she knew she would stick with Geena as long as possible.

Both seventeen years old, with Katherine being the youngest on the entire island, the two went to Norwell High School together and in September were slated to start their senior year together. Now unfortunately, things looked grim. There was clearly virtually no chance they could leave together, but Geena refused to lose faith in escaping.

"So Geena," Katherine asked, "who do you think we should trust?"

Geena thought for a moment, as Katherine continued.

"'Cause I honestly don't trust any of the...FORMER employees."

"Why?" Geena asked.

"Well, there were brought back for a reason. It's like what Wayne said: some people get desperate. They wouldn't have as much trouble killing as, say, we would."

"Well," Geena jumped in, "while I think you have a point, I don't think we should distrust them completely. At least, not much less than any of our coworkers."

Katherine nodded. "Scott's here, and I've always been afraid of him."

Both girls giggled.

"Well," Geena jumped in, still smiling, "I don't think he'd kill anyone for no reason."

"Maybe not," Katherine admitted.

"Look, let's just give people a chance, and if they try to hurt us, then...you know..."

Katherine nodded. "Do you think you can though? I mean, killing someone is just...big, I guess."

"Well, I certainly don't WANT to kill anyone, but if I have to, I'm gonna defend myself. And you, for that matter."

Katherine smiled. "Thanks, I guess."

The girls held their weapons tightly and made their way to the southeast.

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15**

**Females**

**#10, #19, #7**

**38 Contestants Remaining**


	7. The Shack

Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 2:35 AM

Nick had been alone for the duration of the game; he didn't have a watch, but he guessed it had been around two hours since the game started. With only a baseball bat as a weapon, he decided to stay hidden in an old hunting shack, in the woods about a quarter of a mile west of the houses, until the sun came up and he could at least see where he was going, or more importantly, if someone threatening was nearby.

The shack was small, but it had a makeshift bed at least (a mattress on top of several crates), as well as a lock. Nick realized that he wouldn't get much sleep anywhere else (if any at all), so he decided to try and get some sleep, but not before making sure the windows were locked and the curtains were drawn.

But really, what were the odds of him getting ANY sleep?

…

Conor Grady (M7), armed with a rather lame diver's knife, had wandered into the residential area after being sent into the game, but thought that hiding in a house was too obvious, so he hid in the pool house of the largest house on the block. But after hearing gunfire down the street (from Kyle, unbeknownst to him), and seeing a girl (Sydney) run by with a hatchet, he realized that the area just wasn't safe, so he headed west, into the woods.

Eighteen years old and a recent high-school graduate, Conor was saving up as much money as he could before he went to college in New York, in September. Conor had worked as the carriage attendant, retrieving carriages from the parking lot and bringing them inside. On his first day on the job six months prior, a shoplifter was caught at SaveHouse, and he watched as the thief was executed on the sidewalk, as the government occasionally punished criminals, even small-time offenders, in public to remind the citizens who is in charge. Conor was barely affected by it, as he had seen about a dozen public executions in his life.

As a result, he had a crystal-clear record.

Conor had now been wandering in circles for over an hour and a half, unable to get out of the woods. Finally, he came across a decrepit hunting shack and decided to hide inside. But strangely, the door was locked. Any structure he had come across was unlocked. He wondered if maybe this one was forgotten, but then it hit him: someone may be inside. Hoping it was a friendly coworker, he spoke as calmly as possible.

"Hello? This is Conor Grady. I'm just looking for a place to hide. I don't want trouble. Please, don't hurt me. Anyone in there?"

Nick heard him loud and clear. But he wasn't going to let him in. He hoped that Conor would just go away; Nick had only known him from occasionally seeing him in the break room at work, but not much else.

Conor then started banging on the door, saying in a now worried tone, "I'm desperate! Please, if you're in there, let me in! I'm not dangerous!"

Nick remained completely motionless, still clutching his bat, as Conor now banged even louder on the door. He was trying to break it down, Nick realized.

The banging continued for two minutes, although Conor stopped trying to speak through the door, now thinking that no one was inside. Nick was worried, but also confused as to why Conor didn't try and come to the window. Conor might have thought of it eventually, but he wouldn't get the chance.

A loud rat-tat-tat sound burst out, and several holes ripped through the door, and then stopped after barely a second. Nick hit the floor, and then it sunk in: why didn't Conor shoot his way in earlier if he had a gun? Nick then peeked up, and noticed blood seeping under the door. He deduced that Conor had been shot. Nick now began to panic; whoever had that gun was probably gonna come in. He knew he had next to no chance of surviving if he put up a fight, so he quickly but quietly unlocked the back window and climbed out, remembering the small, but just large enough, firewood trunk behind the house. He made sure that the shooter wasn't coming around the shack, and stepped out the window and climbed into the empty trunk, and then closed it behind him.

His hunch that the shooter would come in was proven right, as Ian Lynley (M19) kicked the now-weakened door open, looking to see if there really was anyone inside. He saw no one, but noticed the back window was open. Ian ran to the window to try and catch a glance of whoever was inside, but saw no one in the darkness.

Finally taking a minute to look around the shack, Ian saw the bed and decided to try and get some sleep. After closing the back window and moving a table, a bookcase, and the couch to barricade the door, Ian laid down and quickly fell asleep.

Still in the trunk, Nick heard the window close and realized that someone had now taken his relatively comfortable hiding spot. He was rather annoyed, but decided to make the best of the trunk, and tried to fall asleep, feeling somewhat guilty that Conor was dead because he wouldn't let him inside.

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15, #7**

**Females**

**#10, #19, #7**

**38 Contestants Remaining**


	8. Down The Slope

**(Forgot to update the death chart for the last chapter, so here it is:**

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15, #7**

**Females**

**#10, #19, #7**

**37 Contestants Remaining)**

**Thursday, July 22, 2010. Local time: 2:54 AM**

**Claire Hunter (F1) and Trish McGhee (F2) were on a mission. As a supervisor at the store, Trish felt that she could convince at least the people who worked under her in the store's backroom to join forces, and figure out a strategy to get out of the game. She knew it would be pretty much impossible, but she had to try. Claire, on the other hand, merely wanted to stave off the fighting for as long as she could. Of course, she had already heard gunfire several times, so it was getting harder to hold out hope.**

**"Is there any chance of this working?" Claire asked.**

**"I don't know," Trish responded, "but if I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die trying to fight it."**

**Claire smiled. Trish was a good friend to her; they often synchronized their breaks to have a conversation with each other about anything. Claire was often envious of Trish; Claire was twice-divorced, and at age forty-seven, she knew that she would never have kids at this point, while Trish was married and had a fourteen-year-old son. But Trish was always a reliable friend; Claire's birthday was only four days prior, and Trish was the only person to give her a present: a $50 gift card to a store at the mall just down the street from SaveHouse. Unfortunately, Claire now thought that she would never get a chance to spend it.**

**Trish led the way, her assigned Glock 17 held tightly in her hand. Claire's weapon was a hammer, which she just kept in her bag, knowing she wouldn't use it.**

**"Trish! Over here!" A voice called out. Trish turned to the direction of the voice, gun at the ready. It was Donita Lensora (F6), a cashier at the store. Donita was short and stout, had silver hair, and at age fifty-nine was the third oldest person in the game (second-oldest as well as oldest woman still living). Despite being nowhere near physically apt for this, Trish was happy to see her as she was one of the nicest people at SaveHouse.**

**"Donita!" Trish said as she ran over to hug her. "It's good to see you! Are you alright?"**

**"Yeah I'm fine," Donita replied, "but I'm scared. I don't know what I'll do, especially with ****_this_****." She then held up her weapon: a triple-braided rope.**

**"Just stick with us," Claire jumped in. "We're gonna hold off playing as long as possible. We're gonna try and bring people together."**

**"What do you gals plan to do?"**

**Claire thought for a moment. "We're gonna fight this thing."**

**Donita smiled, and joined the women as they made their way toward a residential area on the map.**

**…**

**Mike and Mitch hid in bushes along a trail, waiting for someone to come by.**

**Specifically, a woman. More specifically, a woman Mike found attractive enough. The trio of Trish, Claire, and Donita nearly walked by earlier, but they turned onto another trail only about fifty feet away. If they had walked by, Mike wouldn't have tried to "have fun" with them.**

**He simply would have shot them.**

**"I don't know about you Mitch," he said, "but I don't want any old pussy."**

**Mitch nodded, and forced out a, "Yeah." Mitch was still not comfortable with Mike's plan, but he was determined to win, and Mitch knew that he could physically overpower him later. Not only that, but if Mike succeeded at his plans, Mitch knew he'd WANT to kill him.**

**It was horrible, but then again so was everything else here. That was Mitch's justification.**

**"Who do you have in mind?" Mitch asked, reluctant yet curious to hear the answer.**

**Mike thought for a moment. "Well, there's Joanna, obviously. Plus there's Jackie, and Laini, and Sarah, and um, maybe Brittany." (He was unaware that Brittany was dead.)**

**Mitch nodded. What a sick fuck, he thought to himself.**

**Mike then looked around, and was alerted to someone. He moved to get a better look, and the he smiled.**

**"Who is it?" Mitch asked.**

**Mike turned to him. "I forgot about Rose."**

**Rose Hussen (F15), the short and petite front-end manager, was approaching. Mike could see that she had a crowbar in her hands, and decided that he and Mitch could easily take her.**

**"Let's get her," Mike said, grinning sadistically. Mitch reluctantly nodded, and the two of them quietly snuck up on her.**

**Rose was a nice enough person off the clock, but she took her job as manager far too seriously. Often, when training people, she was very snarky and almost condescending, and she was not very popular among her coworkers.**

**Not that that was any excuse for Mike to sneak up behind her and bash her in the back of the head with his shotgun.**

**Rose fell to the ground in shock, and Mitch ran over and grabbed her arms. She tried to scream, but Mike put his hand over her mouth. "Be quiet, this'll be over soon," he said softly yet evilly.**

**Mitch managed to hold both of her arms under his, and used his other hand to cover her mouth as Mike pulled her pants and underwear off in one quick move. She tried screaming, but Mitch's hand muffled that. Mike then unzipped and dropped his pants, and then he ripped her shirt and then her bra open. He put his hands on her breasts, and began to rape her. She continued to scream, but no one could hear her, and Mike repeatedly thrust into her for almost two minutes.**

**Finally, he pulled out, and then said, in an unusually friendly way, "That wasn't so bad, right?" Rose was crying and still trying to scream. Mitch felt awful for being what he was just a part of, but he felt he had no alternative. He could have gone for the gun, but he couldn't risk Mike being faster.**

**Mitch knew he had crossed a moral event horizon. And Mike seemed to know it too.**

"Mitch, you wanna take care of her?" Rose's eyes widened in horror, and Mitch, feeling he'd come too far, nodded.

Then, Mitch began to strangle her. She tried to fight it, but as he outweighed her by well over a hundred pounds, there was nothing she could do. After about thirty seconds, Mitch heard her neck crack, and he then set her down on the ground gently.

As Mike had his back turned, cleaning himself off, Mitch pulled Rose's pants up, and closed her shirt as best he could. Knowing this was his last act of kindness, possibly for the rest of his life, he whispered gently to her, "I'm sorry."

Mitch then stood up, and Mike turned around. Repressing all feelings of regret, sympathy, and guilt, he simply asked Mike, "Who's next?"

**Dead**

**Males**

**#15, #7**

**Females**

**#10, #19, #7, #15**

**36 Contestants Remaining**


End file.
